A Happy Grump
by SamCyberCat
Summary: Inspector Chelmey had a lot in life that he cared about and wanted to protect. Amelie/Chelmey.


**Notes:** Written for Bloody-Lucky on tumblr, who gave me the prompts Chelmey &amp; Barton and "Innocence". Set at some unspecific point during the original trilogy, with spoilers for the extra episode about Chelmey in PL4.

* * *

Inspector Gilbert had never demanded Chelmey to look after Barton, it was something that Chelmey had decided was right to do. That he'd feel better in himself for doing it, to make up for all the years that Gilbert had looked after him.

But he'd never imagined that looking after Barton would be such a mammoth task.

They had both joined Scotland Yard because they wanted to help people, in that respect they were the same. But in Chelmey case he regarded the world with a disillusioned determination that helped him do his job to the highest of his ability. Whereas Barton just liked everyone and hoped everyone liked him in return. Which isn't to say that this was a bad approach, just that his naïvety resulted in Chelmey having to pull him out of dangerous situations on more than one occasion.

He'd whine to Amelie about it sometimes and she'd scold him for saying such things. Because the thing about Barton was that his charms were infectious – everyone did indeed like Barton. Not liking Barton was like kicking a puppy. Only bad people could not like Barton. And Amelie, being the most wonderful person in the world, was glad to have Barton hanging around the house, eating her home-cooking with much gusto. So hearing Chelmey say anything negative about him would turn her expression very sharp indeed.

"To think you'd talk like that when he looks up to you so much," she tutted.

"It's not that I don't think he's a good lad," Chelmey quickly reasoned, "Just that... I'm not sure how right he is for the Yard."

"Is there anything wrong with having a bit of cheer around that place?" demanded Amelie, "Heaven knows that all the sourpusses there could do with it." Her stare was pointed enough to almost make Chelmey want to recoil.

"And everyone likes him for it, believe me. But sunshine and rainbows are a fat lot of good when you're chasing down a criminal on the streets of London," retorted Chelmey.

"Barton helps in his own way," Amelie insisted.

Chelmey sighed, "We don't need a mascot, we need-"

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything, sir!"

And just like that, Barton was standing in the hallway, loyally saluting. Chelmey wasn't sure exactly how much of their conversation he's overheard, but he didn't seem too put-out by it, judging from his expression.

"Not at all, Barty," Amelie assured, "I was just telling Chelmey that he needs to stop being such a grump at work. Do you think you could help out with that?"

"Upon your orders, I will work hard every day to ensure that the Inspector is behaving the least like a grump that he possibly could be," promised Barton.

"That's very kind of you. I'll be sure to save you some cheese and onion scones from the batch in the oven," Amelie replied.

"This is co-conspiring!" Chelmey barked.

"Excuse me, sir, but I believe that you are being what the lovely Amelie would regard as a grump. And it is my sworn duty to stop you from being such a thing," Barton firmly told him. The look of determination on his round, adorable face was impossible to take seriously.

"I most certainly am not being a grump," Chelmey huffed, folding his arms.

"Never mind him," dismissed Amelie, "He'll cheer up as soon as those scones are ready."

"So you're saying that to get the Inspector to be an all-round more cheerful person that I have to learn to make scones to the same high quality that you do?" asked Barton. That seemed like an impossible feat to him. Especially considering that Amelie's cooking was simply divine!

"Ah, no dear. I'm sure you can look after this silly husband of mine in other ways," Amelie assured, "But would you go check on the oven for me? Wouldn't want them to burn."

"Right you are!" piped Barton, dashing off into the kitchen.

"I'm the one who looks after him," grumbled Chelmey.

"Sometimes I wonder about that, Chelms," hummed Amelie, much to his annoyance.

But it was true, Chelmey thought to himself. He'd made a vow to Gilbert that he'd look after his son. Even if that meant protecting his almost impossible optimism from all of the bad people he encountered on a daily basis in Scotland Yard. It was a tough job, but if the reward was being on the receiving end of playful banter from Barton &amp; Amelie, then it was one job that Chelmey was more than happy to do for the rest of his life.

Ol' Gilbert had always wanted Chelmey to have more of a life away from the force and being here with the two of them was just that. It gave Chelmey something to strive for, a reason to want to make England as safe as it possibly could be. Because if he could do that, then maybe everyone might have a chance to be as happy as Chelmey is. Even if he is somewhat terrible at showing his appreciation.

"Looks like the scones are indeed ready, sir and madam!" Barton called through from the kitchen.

"I thought it smelled like they were done," replied Amelie, "Can you be a dear and set the table, Chelms? I'll go get them plated up."

"As you wish, love," replied Chelmey, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before going through to the kitchen; where he found Barton already sat eagerly at the table, waiting. "Bleedin' heck, Barton! Make yourself at home, why don't you?"

"I do everyday, sir," Barton confirmed.

Chelmey shook his head; "You really are something else, you know that?"

"Have heard reports to that effect, sir," answered Barton, cheerfully swinging his feet under the table.

How could anyone stay mad at that? Chelmey didn't know. He certainly couldn't. And the combined powers of Barton &amp; Amelie were even worse. But he loved them, in his quiet, grumbly way. He might be a grump, but he was their grump. And knowing that made him feel better about himself than even ten plates of amazing scones could hope to manage.


End file.
